Breathless
by LittleIdazle
Summary: Marinette felt like her throat was closing up. Everything around her was becoming this big blur and she could only focus on Chat. His warmth, his hand in hers, his presence, his breathing. She was hyperaware of him and the way he shifted and gulped, the sound of every motion he made. He wasn't speaking and it terrified her. The doubts were setting in.


Panting. They were struggling to breathe, fighting to catch their breath. Even after Ladybug cleansed the akuma and they went bounding away, the attack had taken a lot out of them, and running out of sight before their transformations dropped didn't help the burning in her throat and the tightening in her chest.

The two of them somehow wound up staying side by side, resting on the same roof. It was because she didn't want to leave him, her mind insisted, she never wanted to leave him. Especially after the way he put himself in danger. It was a normal thing for him, but it still made her heart stop every time he jumped in front of her. It still made her eyes widen in panic and her forehead sweat in fear.

She couldn't breathe and she knew it wasn't just because of that nasty fight.

"Ladybug," Chat whispered intently from behind her, caution constricting his voice. Or maybe he was still out of breath, too.

She leaned her back against his in response. She didn't want to talk. It wasn't that she couldn't, just that she didn't want to start scolding him and not be able to stop. She didn't want her voice to tremble and give her away. They had that conversation one too many times already and he always made it clear that, if nothing else, he would be her shield.

"We should probably go," he said. "Our transformations won't last much longer."

"I don't care," she found herself saying as their miraculouses beeped once more, and it was the truth. She didn't care. Identities, secrets, safety. None of it mattered. What mattered was that he was still breathing. Panting, heaving, struggling. So long as his lungs still gave him life.

"What? But-"

"I don't care, Chaton. I'm not leaving you."

He sighed. "I'm fine, Bugaboo. I'm still here."

"This time. You're fine this time. You're still here this time, but what about the next time?"

He didn't say anything. He knew she was right, but that changed nothing.

"I'm not saying to not protect me when I'm in danger. Even if I did, you wouldn't listen, but when you do you are never leaving my side afterwards. You stay with me until I know for a fact you're okay and you aren't going to die on me."

Chat exhaled, the kind of exhale where she could hear his smile. The endearment in his breath. "Okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

And he didn't. They stayed in place with their backs pressed against each others until their masks melted away and they had caught their breath. Neither said a word. They simply felt each others presence and soaked in the moment for as long as it lasted.

Marinette tilted her head back against his shoulder and let his hair tickle her face. She turned her head to bury her nose in his soft locks, relishing in the heat radiating from his neck. She could feel the material of his shirt and smell the sweat mingling with the faint scent of his shampoo. His hair was a little shorter. Tame, too. She wondered what it looked like in the front. Perhaps it was neatly combed and styled, and she almost laughed at the thought. She could only imagine unruly, messy hair that refused to cooperate. She wanted to play in it herself. She wanted to lay him down on her lap and massage his scalp, making him purr. It was that thought that prompted the next.

His skin.

What did his skin feel like? Were his fingers tender and well taken care of or rough and calloused? If their fingers touched, grazed for even a second, what would they feel like? What were his hands like beneath the leather she only ever saw him in?

She listened for his soft exhales, wanting to feel closer to him. She was never able to figure out when she started feeling these things, but the fact was that she did feel them and they weren't going away. Quite frankly, she didn't want them to go away. She wanted it to consumed her and burn her to a crisp. She wanted to crackle and break down in his hold and glow in the aftermath of his embrace.

He was right behind her, but not close enough. She wanted to touch him, but she was already forcing him to stay with her. He was already sitting there when he had urged them to go their separate ways. As hungry as she was for his touch, she wasn't going to force anymore on him. She was instead going to feel his warmth through the fabric of his clothes and be content with that.

Chat, however, was not content with that. A fact that thrilled her.

"Ladybug, can I hold your hand?" he said almost out of nowhere, cutting through the silence with more force than intended.

"My hand?" she repeated back at him, ignoring the nervousness she heard in his voice.

"Your hand, my lady. This may sound weird, but I. . . I want to feel you."

Her heart wrestled with her rib cage. It was banging against it as if it was trying to break free and burst out of her chest. "It's not weird," she said. "I understand."

"You understand? Really?"

She slid her hand against the ground, gradually moving closer to him and hopefully in his line of sight. "I understand, Minou. I want to feel you, too." She was running out of oxygen again. She was forgetting how to breathe and with every word she lost the ability.

Chat must have seen her hand or at least had the same idea. Just a second later, their fingers touched. It was the slightest brush, hardly considered a touch, but she realized that that was the very first time she was feeling his fingertips. Of the many times he cradled and kissed her hand, the times he swept her up and tried to woo her with his poor flirting skills, and every time they fist bumped, never once had she actually touched him. It was only then in that moment, sitting on a rooftop with the sun slipping down the sky, did she know what his hands felt like. From the single touch, she gathered that his hands were soft. Much softer than she expected, but she couldn't imagine them any other way.

Her hand froze in place as her thoughts whirred in her mind, but Chat easily stopped them when he hesitantly wrapped her hand up in his, tangling their fingers together. He fumbled with her hand until they were intertwined and he was satisfied.

Marinette gulped and tightened her grip. She caressed her thumb against his skin and involuntarily shivered. He was so warm, so pleasant, such a wonderful contrast from the cold air surrounding them. She never wanted to let go. She was going to sit there and hold his hand until he got sick of her.

She chuckled, mostly out of nerves. "You can't feel another person's body heat through our suits. This is so strange."

"You say that as if you've never touched anyone before," he laughed.

Her cheeks warmed. "I've never touched you before."

"Did you really want to that badly?"

"Did you?" she asked in turn.

He was silent for a brief moment before a soft whisper reached her ears. "Yes."

He sounded nervous as he said it, like he was afraid he was saying the wrong thing. Maybe it was the wrong thing. She knew staying with him was the wrong thing. Letting their transformations go and being as close as they were was definitely the wrong thing, but wrong and right was blurred. Her morals and sense of responsibility was skewed. So if he was saying the wrong thing, she didn't know. Her heart pounding in her ears blocked any reasonable thoughts. She was holding his hand so tight that she couldn't hold on to her promise to Tikki.

The kwami probably knew what she was thinking, probably knew what she was about to say next. She could practically feel her protesting, but Marinette pushed it all to the back of her mind. She was in too deep.

"Me too. I really wanted to touch you. I still want to touch you."

"We are touching."

"More," she replied. "I want to touch you more."

"Ladybug, what- what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm tired of holding back. I hate seeing you all the time and not being able to pull you closer to me. I want to feel your body on mine, I want to touch your cheeks and k-kiss your lips. I want you, Chat."

He was breathing hard and fiddling with her fingers. He didn't know what to say and she didn't blame him. She wouldn't know how to respond either if someone sprung that on her, but nevertheless she ached for his response. She needed to know what he thought, but she was scared at the same time. Her mind kept pestering and nagging her, saying she said too much. Though she knew he felt the same way, she couldn't stop the doubts from creeping in.

"Why?" he asked. "Why do you want me?"

She let out a breathy laugh and shook her head. "How am I supposed to answer that? I just. . . do. I want you with everything I am because you're you."

"Be specific. What does that mean, Ladybug? If you leave me with that I'll never know if you simply want something or if you want me. Not just my touch and my kisses, but my heart, too. I need know."

Marinette frowned. He was having his own doubts it seemed. When she first became Ladybug and she doubted herself, when she was convinced she'd never be able to do it, Chat proved her wrong. Anytime she was even slightly down on herself, Chat eased her worries. Now it was her turn.

She put her head back where it was before, nestled close to his neck. Closer to him. "Who do you take me for? Do I seem like the kind of person to say something like that without meaning it in every sense? I want you, Chat. All of you. Your awful puns, your terrible timing, your insanely soft skin, the way you make everyone feel like they're worth something in the worst of moments, and most of all, I want your heart. Because I. . ."

"Say it," his voice shook. "Please."

"Because I love you."

Marinette felt like her throat was closing up. Everything around her was becoming this big blur and she could only focus on Chat. His warmth, his hand in hers, his presence, his breathing. She was hyperaware of him and the way he shifted and gulped, the sound of every motion he made. He wasn't speaking and it terrified her. The doubts were setting in.

"Close your eyes," he finally said.

Though she didn't know why he needed her to close her eyes, she complied and slid her eyelids shut. "Okay," she whispered and in the span of three seconds the doubts melted away, because in those three seconds a pair of terribly soft lips fell upon hers.

She didn't move an inch, but without him behind her supporting her weight, she nearly fell back. His hands however, no longer in hers, grabbed her waist and held her against him. Against his chest. His heart. She was held in his embrace and she knew that if she were to die anytime soon, she'd want to die in his hold.

Coming out of her stunned state, Marinette wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself further into him. He hummed into her lips and she kissed him. She was clumsy and messy, but it was wonderful. They somehow fit each other perfectly and knew just what to do, just how to hold each other and mold their lips together.

She needed to breathe, to break away for air, but her heart needed him more so she didn't let go. She tangled her fingers in his hair and let him know just how much he meant to her through her touch and he did the very same.

His lips, without uttering a sound, spoke everythig she needed to know.

He loved her, too. He wanted her just as much, if not more. He loved the way she made him feel and the way her body felt against his. He was dizzy with passion, but focused on lavishing her in everything she desired. He never wanted to stop.

They didn't stop. They didn't stop for a long time. The air was chilly, but they were burning. They were burning and crazed, and they were breathless. Breathless and perfectly content.


End file.
